The Heart of the Beast
by Anna Livia
Summary: Loosely based on the original French fairy tale, La Belle et la Bete (Beauty and the Beast). Damon Salvatore is a vampire running out of time. Elena Gilbert is a prisoner of happenstance. In his last six weeks, she teaches him the importance of loyalty and the power of love. Rated M for dark themes, language, and mature content. AU/ Delena.
1. Chapter 1: Time

**Hi readers! I've been working on this for a little spell now and wanted to share it with you all. The story is completely finished and I'll be posting short chapters every day (maybe twice a day, depending on how you all like it). For those of you crazy wonderful folks who are following my other two stories (****_All You Are To Me _****and ****_Heartlines_****), I am NOT abandoning them! In fact, I am working on updates right now. This story just kept popping into my head and I really liked trying a different style of writing.**

**This fic is rated M! You've been warned fair reader! Not so much for smut, but there will be violence and general darkness so if that's not your cup o' tea, maybe best to read on elsewhere :) Those of you who know me know how much I love sugary fluff, so this is a big departure from the usual. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses. I'm just a poor student stretching my writing fingers :)**

* * *

A lone figure perched on the precipice of the thundering waterfall below. He stared into the dark water with unseeing eyes; his mind was miles away. All of his thoughts were dwelling on the infiniteness and indomitability of time.

_Time_.

He was plagued by time more than an immortal creature like himself should be. He was promised an eternity all those years ago, and now the cruel fact of the matter was that he was running out of time. After three hundred years he was down to six weeks, perhaps his last six weeks.

Had Damon Salvatore known how quickly three centuries could slip by he might have done things differently. He may have kept more promises. He may have enjoyed the little things more. He may have read a few more classics. He may have… who was he kidding? _I wouldn't change a damn thing, except maybe that weekend in Amsterdam back in 1923…_ he thought to himself with a smirk.

He was shaken from his thoughts by a shrill cry that pierced the cold night air. His predatory side went into high alert and he tuned his ears towards the sound, he heard a rustle of leaves and slumping sound, then… nothing. He prowled in the direction of the noise like a panther, swiftly and silently. He came to a stop at the top of a steep ravine and at the bottom of the drop off he could make out a small figure lying unconscious in the leaves below.

For a moment he considered leaving and returning to his hunt but then the faint scent of blood met his nose—blood from whoever was lying at the bottom of the ravine. It was sweet and heady, unlike any he had smelled before. With a graceful leap, he cleared the steep canyon wall and landed right beside the unlucky traveler, a girl, and young by the looks of it.

He could already feel his canines cutting through the tissue of his gums as he looked down at his next meal. The hunt was one of the few pleasures he still got from life and it was vastly out of character to take such an easy snack, but it was already well past midnight and his usual quarry of deer seemed to ne in unusually short supply. Women had always been his preference, and in his younger days he would only select the most beautiful and nubile ladies to quench his thirst. Over the years he had gotten sloppier, started caring less—blood was blood, regardless of the vessel it came from. However, his curiosity got the best of him this time and he reached out to brush her long chestnut hair away from the girl's face. He knew that face. It was the face that haunted his dreams every night; it was the face that turned him into the monster he was today. The face he had once loved so dearly, but now hated so deeply.

The girl's quick and steady heartbeat gave her away as a human, vampires' hearts never beat that fast. She was well-dressed and he figured that she was likely the daughter of one of Mystic Falls' upper crust. What he couldn't figure out is what she was doing out in the woods in the middle of the night alone. It was common knowledge that the woods surrounding the town weren't safe. The humans may have made an uneasy pact with his coven but that didn't mean that the werewolves that roamed the darkened wild respected the sanctity of pacts and borders.

He took a quick glance around to make sure that the girl was alone and swiftly cradled her into his arms. She was light of build and even without his vampire strength he wouldn't have had a problem carrying her. She was still unconscious but she instinctively snuggled closer to his chest and her cold hands found their way to his jacket.

Once he reached a moonlit clearing, he looked down at the girl in his embrace and his lips curled into a feral grin.

_It's going to be a hell of a last six weeks, _he thought.

* * *

**A/N: What did you all think? Feed that hungry comment box and let me know! Like I said, I'll be posting updates daily, so stay tuned. Remember, reviews are love :)**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	2. Chapter 2: Hazel

**Ask, my dear claofna, and you shall receive! Just a little something more to whet your appetite since Chapter 1 was so short and I hope to get more people on board with this story. The next installment will be up tomorrow morning. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses. **

* * *

"Will!" Damon called out to the chilly cavernous foyer of the Salvatore Manor as the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind him. "Will!"

A young man came rushing down the stairs momentarily, yanking the collar of his shirt back into place and muttering about sleeping hours versus waking hours, and the inherent difference between the two.

"Were you sleeping?" Damon seethed as he took in the young man's disheveled appearance. This place was getting too lax. How many hearts did a man need to rip out to be obeyed? A few more, apparently.

"It _is_ 3 in the morning, so yeah, I was sleeping," Will answered sarcastically. His eyes fell to the small figure that was cradled in Damon's arms, a young woman. It wasn't completely unusual for Damon to bring home his conquests, especially in his newbie days, but the female visitors had become more and more seldom over the years; and this wasn't just any young woman, but one who bore a striking resemblance to the ruthless siren who had cursed them to a life in the shadows. "Is she—?"

"She's human," Damon answered shortly, peering down at his prize. His dead heart did the same funny flip it had back in the woods when he first saw her. _I've got to lay off the pre-hunt libations_ he mentally noted, not liking the new feeling.

"Fucking hell, Damon!" Will shrieked and threw his hands into the air. He began to pace wildly in front of his master, pulling on his unruly strands of hair in a frenzy. "What have you done?!"

"Watch your fucking mouth and don't forget who is in charge around here," Damon growled and instinctively pulled the girl closer to his chest. He didn't like being challenged and he was prepared to fight for what was rightfully his. Neither Will nor anyone else would force him to take the girl back to where he found her.

"You brought home a Petrova doppelganger! A _human_ doppelganger no less!" Will cried. "You brought her into a coven of vampires with a burning hatred for the original Petrova?"

"What's your point?" Damon sneered, already knowing where his young companion was going with this. He knew he was putting the girl's life in jeopardy by bringing her home with him. The other vampires in his house wouldn't hesitate to rip her to shreds in some sick displacement of their hatred for Katerina Petrova.

"She can't be any older than 18, and you've doomed her!"

"Something could have happened to her out there!" Damon tried to justify, hoping that the full magnitude of his desperation wasn't seeping into his voice. From the moment he cradled her in his arms he knew that she was safer out there than anywhere with him but he couldn't leave her. He couldn't be without her. He had to have her.

"So you trade a 'could have' for a death sentence?"

"She belongs to me, that alone should be enough to keep her safe," he snapped with his blue eyes ablaze with fury. In spite of himself, he ran his finger gently down the girl's cheek and cocked his head to the side with a look of enchantment.

"She's a human girl, Damon, she doesn't belong to anyone," Will's voice softened at seeing his master so clearly out of sorts. Damon wasn't the sort of man to get attached. He found a scraggly orange kitten in a back alley of Paris in '64 and brought him home to nurse him back to health, swearing to everyone that it was only temporary; when Toulouse succumbed to cancer at the ripe old feline age of nineteen Damon disappeared for seven months without so much as a goodbye. That was the first, and only, time Will had ever seen Damon get close enough to anything to get hurt. "She probably has a family who is out looking for her."

"She's mine now, Will, that's the end of it," Damon mumbled as he pushed past Will towards the plush sofa in the parlor.

"Your idiot decisions are fine when it's just your life in danger, but you are endangering the whole coven by bringing her here! We could be exposed!" Will hissed, not wanting to wake the rest of the house before the situation was dealt with. "You know the town's history, the people there remember and they wouldn't waste a moment before knocking down the front gates if they knew you were stealing into the night to whisk their daughters back to you lair."

"This coven is _mine_ and this girl is _mine_. I am risking nothing."

"You and your goddamn obsession," Will conceded throwing his hands in the air in defeat. "It's getting the better of you, Damon."

Damon opened his mouth to respond, but the girl shifted in his arms, drawing both his and Will's attention. Her forehead creased with a worried expression and a soft, pained moan left her slightly parted lips.

"Get her something warm to eat, a cup of tea, and blankets," Damon commanded. "Now!" Will shook his head and retreated to the kitchen muttering to himself.

Damon gently laid the girl down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Feeling compelled to touch her again, he brushed a stray tendril of hair from her forehead. His fingertips burned from the warmth coming from her skin and he could hear her blood sing as it filed through her capillaries coloring her pale complexion a sunny olive color. His fingers lingered on the smooth skin of her cheek and he stared at her with a wonder that hadn't stirred his heart in years.

Katerina had never been this warm, or this soft; years of living on the run had hardened her features into steely seductiveness. This girl, on the other hand, was unmarred by tragedy and fear. Will was probably right; she had a family in town— a family who loved and adored her. They would come looking for her and they would try to take her away from him. He grit his teeth against the unpleasant feeling in his chest that throbbed against his ribs at the very notion of losing her.

"Owww," the girl groaned and her pink lips curled into a little pout. Her thick eyelashes shuddered as her eyelids slowly opened. Damon stopped breathing for a moment, an hour, a decade— he wasn't sure but one look into the girl's honeyed brown doe eyes and he knew he would never be the same. Despite her resemblance to the original Petrova in every other way, her eyes could not have been more different. They were a few shades lighter than Katerina's and radiated a warm glow that her vampire look-alike couldn't have mustered, even as a human. Had Damon been human he may have missed how the little golden flecks in her irises caught the light of the fire, or how beneath the naïve innocence in her gaze there was a hint of longing; longing for adventure and passion and danger.

"What happened?" she mumbled and tried to sit up, but hissed in discomfort when she craned her neck forward.

"You're going to be sore for a few days," Damon said and gently pushed her back against the plush pillows of the sofa. "You were out in the woods and you fell, I found you at the bottom of the ravine by the old Church."

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around the room. Her voice didn't tremble with fear as so many humans' did when he brought them here, but instead it vibrated with curiosity and excitement.

"The Salvatore mansion, my home."

"It's much more well appointed than the urban legends lead you to believe," she smiled and giggled at her own joke, but devolved into a fit of coughing and sniffles. It had been years since Damon was around sickness and he hadn't the slightest idea how to manage a common cold.

"Easy," Damon cooed in the most comforting voice he could rally. He heard Will enter the parlor and the clink of teacup and tray of sandwiches on the coffee table behind him. He didn't need to turn around to confirm that the sharp gaze that pierced his back was one of disapproval and anger.

"He's not real friendly, huh?" the girl commented when Will left the room without so much as a glance in her direction.

"We don't get many visitors here," Damon shrugged. "I'm Damon."

"I'm Elena," she smiled with a giggle and stretched her small hand out in greeting.

_Elena_.

Light.

His light.

"Is there a last name to go with that, Elena?" he smiled charmingly and kissed the back of her knuckles.

"Gilbert," Elena answered, averting her eyes from his intense gaze and blushing.

"Any relation to John Gilbert," Damon asked carefully.

"Mhmm, he's my uncle. Do you know him?"

"I do, I know John very well." Jonathan Gilbert had a reputation among Damon's kind for being a ruthless and particularly cruel hunter in his younger days. Nowadays, he was the, ironically, the chief mediator between the Coven and the Council; the Mystic Falls authority charged with placating the things that go bump in the night and preserving the hamlet's idyllic little façade. Apparently, Middle America didn't enjoy having their bake sales and garden shows interrupted with ancient blood feuds.

"He's an ass," Elena frowned.

"Apparently you also know him very well," Damon chuckled. This girl had spunk and he liked it.

"I should be getting back home," Elena smiled and struggled to stand up. "My parents will wonder where I am and probably ground me for the foreseeable future."

"Oh, my sweet Elena," Damon sang with a chilling grin. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Umm, ok, sure," Elena laughed playfully as she made her way to the front door. "Mysterious guy in a big dark house outside of town preying on girls from town, yeah… I've read this bedtime story before. Thank you for finding me, Damon. But I really should be going."

"You belong to me now, Elena," Damon said a little more forcefully, grabbing her elbow as she crept past him

"You're joking, right? Because that's ridiculous," she shrieked and pulled her arm free from his grasp.

"I'm _dead_ serious."

"My family will come looking for me, you know? And the police! Did you even think about that Smart Guy? Caroline Forbes is my best friend, Forbes… as in Liz Forbes—the Sheriff," Elena said, crossing her arms over her chest in the most self-assured manner she could muster.

"Perhaps," Damon shrugged, "and I'll be ready when they do."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about. Now _pet_, amuse me," Damon growled, caging Elena against the wall with his strong arms. As quickly as she could, Elena ducked beneath his arms and took off at a sprint down the corridor.

_I love it when they run_…

* * *

**A/N: Remember, I warned you it was going to be dark Damon ;) How about making my little starving heart happy and leaving your thoughts in that snazzy box below? Sounds like fun, doesn't it?**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	3. Chapter 3: Dreams

**Back again! Thank you so much the feedback I've gotten on this story so far. Like I said, it's quite a departure from my regular style so I'm very pleased to see people enjoying it :) Keep those reviews coming, they are like little protein-energy-bar-thingies for my muse ;)**

**Warning: a little bit of violence in this chappie.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses.**

* * *

Her hand hit the brass doorknob and he could hear her heart stutter with hope that she would escape, which filled him with a warped sense of satisfaction. This was his favorite part of the chase, closing in, the final moments when he could hear his victim's pulse quicken and flush with adrenaline. There was no finer vintage than adrenaline-laced blood; it softened the hard metallic aftertaste into a smooth finish and heightened the euphoria of the feed. Every vampire had their preferred way of capturing a victim at the height of a rush; Damon's personal favorites were sex and terror. Whenever he was feeling especially intrepid he would combine the two and spend hours floating in nirvana, his instinct, hunger, and body sated. It was the closest he every felt to happy with what he had become.

"Open, please," Elena begged through her tears as she pulled at the door handle with both hands, willing the heavy wooden barrier to swing open to her freedom. When it did she cried in relief and bolted into the frigid night. Her escape was cut short when she ran straight into a hard wall of muscle and tumbled to the ground.

"How did—?" she gasped when she looked up to see Damon towering over her, wearing the same cocky smirk as before. For a moment she was too shocked to be afraid.

"I thought I was very clear about the not leaving part, Elena. What am I going to do with you now?" he asked gleefully. He grabbed her arms in his talons and hauled her up from the ground, tearing a pained shriek from her throat. "I warned you that'd you'd be a little sore, don't make me make it worse for you."

"What are you going to do to me?" Elena asked with a sniffle.

"I haven't decided yet, to be honest," Damon shrugged as he dragged her back into the house, tossing her unceremoniously into a heap on the floor after he slammed the door. "You need to get yourself cleaned up before anything. Will can show you to your quarters."

"You can't do this!" Elena screamed at Damon's retreating back. "You can't make me stay here!" She could have sworn she heard him chuckle as he disappeared down the darkened hallway. She let out a frustrated cry and slammed her fists against the floor.

It was several minutes before Will returned to show Elena to her room. He directed her to follow him a short, clipped tone. She had to take two steps for his every one just to keep up with him as he led her down corridor after corridor. The walls were paneled in dark wood with stately paintings gracing their surface. Elena fought against little ripples of giddiness that bubbled up in her stomach, reminding herself that she was still, essentially, a prisoner in this beautiful house.

Will stopped abruptly at a pair of tall French doors at the end of a particularly ornately decorated corridor.

"This will be your room," he said curtly. "I wouldn't wander too far if I were you. The other residents won't take kindly to a… guest."

"How many people live here?"

"People?" Will smiled cryptically. "Just you, sweetheart." With barely a sound Will disappeared, leaving Elena stunned and confused.

"Ok, that's not creepy or anything," she mumbled to herself and took a deep breath before opening the doors to her new room.

The room gaped open behind the doors like a magnificent cavern. In all her young life, Elena had never seen anything so beautiful. She had to fight her younger brother, Jeremy, for the bigger room in the Gilbert home but it was nothing compared to this. Unlike the rest of the house, the walls in this room were painted a soft ivory color and the floor was covered with a plush rug with little gold threads woven into it. Yards upon yards of gold-trimmed celadon silk blanketed floor-to-ceiling leaded glass windows and she was almost certain that a small private balcony stretched out into the night beyond the windows. In the center of the room was a massive bed, hand-carved from bird's eye maple and bedded with the same silk as the drapes.

"Caroline would die if she saw this," Elena muttered to herself as she surveyed the small details of the room. Her survey stumbled on a corner bookshelf and she descended ravenously upon it. Her eyes flickered with excitement as she scanned the aged spines of the books: _Jane Eyre, Pride & Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, The Complete Shakespeare, Iliad, Dracula_… for a moment the thought crossed her mind that spending some time here may not be the _worst_ thing in the world.

A loud knock at the door nearly made Elena leap out of her skin and she crept forward, hoping it wouldn't be Damon. She peeked through a tiny crack in the door but didn't see anyone standing outside so she opened it a little further and popped her head out into the hallway. There was no sign of anyone except for a silver tray of canapés and a cup of what looked to be spiced cider on the floor. As much as she wanted to be stubborn, Elena's stomach rumbled loudly as soon as she saw the food, reminding her that it had been several hours since her last meal.

"Beats gruel and ice water," she smiled and she picked up the tray and plopped onto the bed. Between the books, dinner, and the most delicious cider she'd ever tasted, she allowed herself to get comfortable on the down mattress and fall into a deep sleep.

Damon listened carefully through the wall that his own bedroom shared with Elena's. As soon as her breathing even out into the rhythm of sleep he slipped into her room as a silent as a shadow.

Dream walking had always been one of his favorite pastimes but when he saw Elena curled up in a mountain of blankets and dwarfed by the massive bed he felt a small pang in his chest and nearly considered leaving her mind inviolate. His temptation got the best of him and he made himself comfortable at her bedside.

The barrier to her consciousness was surprisingly easy to breach and he wondered at why Jonathan Gilbert's own niece wouldn't be on daily vervain. Apparently the Council had gotten complacent after a few decades of peace. The scene he entered was a high school football game.

Really?_ Friday Night Lights _is the best thing this girl's got going on?_ he wondered sarcastically, groaning at the cliché of the thing. Elena bounced across the field with her arms linked with a petite brunette and a blonde girl. All three of them were dressed in their Timberwolves cheerleading uniforms and they chatted wildly about some inane high school event. _

_ Damon remained at the periphery of the scene, not wanting to influence anything just yet. Instead his eyes roamed over Elena's long, tanned legs that were barely covered by her short pleated skirt. Legs that, had he any less restraint, would be wrapped around his waist as he pinned her against the wall. The idea of claiming her so completely made his jaw throb and he could feel his teeth lengthening. It had been quite some time since someone had this effect on Damon Salvatore. She was beautiful and he congratulated himself on a superb find._

_ His good mood was instantly soured when a tall, blonde boy appeared next to Elena carrying a football helmet under his arm and a gym bag slung over his shoulder. She spun around with a wide grin on her face and leapt into his arms, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. The boy swung her around before setting her back on feet and kissing her again. _

_ "Great game, babe," she smiled and looked down to link their fingers together._

_ "Well, we do have the best cheer team in the state," the boy smiled at Elena and the two girls she was with. Elena blushed and snuggled under the boy's arm._

_ "So I think a celebratory dinner at the Grill is in order here," the blonde girl announced with authority and turned on her heel to head for the parking lot with the brunette girl while Elena and the boy hung slightly behind._

_ He was whispering something in Elena's ear and had allowed his hand to wander dangerously low on her back. Damon's eyes flared with jealously and anger. He was usually tolerant of human's and their stupidity, but he couldn't abide someone touching what belonged to him. _

_ "Elena, my dear," Damon called out from the shadows, strolling into her dream with a cocky smirk on his face._

_ "Who are you?" the boy asked defensively, posturing over Elena like he actually stood a snowball's chance in Hell against Damon._

_ "Damon?" Elena asked curiously. His name sounded so painfully sweet on her lips and it had been too long since he had heard it spoken like that. _

_ "You know this guy, 'Len?" the boy asked, becoming clearly irritated._

_ "Yeah, he's…" Elena started and he could feel the pull of her mind struggling to define exactly what Damon was to her._

_ "She's mine," Damon finished her sentence and in a flash lunged at the boy and twisted his neck violently, shredding the fibers of his spinal cord with little effort. He dropped the boy's body to the wet grass and flexed his fingers with satisfaction. "You'd do well to remember that as well, Elena." _

Elena bolted upright in a cold sweat. Her throat was too dry to scream but she grasped at her chest to calm her racing heart. She frantically looked around the room and drew herself back to the present.

"A dream," she sighed. "It was just a dream."

She flopped back against the pillows, exhausted and emotionally drained. She fell back into the world of dreams without even noticing the downy black raven's feather the drifted down from the canopy of her bed.

* * *

**A/N: So, what'd you think? Please take a moment to review, favorite, follow. It really means a lot to me and lets me know that you guys are liking (or also not liking I suppose... depending on your review) the story.**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	4. Chapter 4: Treasures

**Nothing to say except... NEW UPDATE! Enjoy and review my lovely lovelies :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses. Just borrowing for funsies.**

* * *

Damon made his way down the hall to his study, absently twirling a glossy black feather between his fingers. The study was off limits to all but those in his trusted circle. The punishment for trespassing was death and it had been enforced on more than one occasion. It was his sanctuary where he stored all of the little treasures he had gathered over the years and little pieces of his hidden life decorated the room: a _Croix de guerre_ nestled in a blue velvet box, a battered copy of _The Brothers Karamazov_ with a scratchy Cyrillic inscription on the front paper "Piridayte Friedrich ot minya privet. –F.D."**, a hand-colorized photograph of him and Mata Hari in her London hotel room.

He swiped a blood bag from the small refrigerator under his desk and emptied it into a crystal tumbler. Dream manipulation had gotten easier as he got older, but it was still taxing, especially when he had to break some stupid human boy's neck. He wondered if Elena had such a boy waiting for her back in town. The mere thought set the hairs on his neck bristling and his fist contracted around the empty blood bag in his hand. There was _something_ about that girl that unsettled him and he chuckled at the absurdity of the notion: an urbane, worldly man with over three centuries of experience tied in knots over a small-town teenage girl who probably hadn't set foot outside of Virginia.

He reclined further back into his leather chair and took a long pull of blood from his glass. He stared blankly into the flames that were ablaze in the fireplace and wondered what to do with the girl at the other end of the hall. He should have wanted to march to her room, ravish her, and bleed her dry. He should have ached to taste her, but who was he kidding? He wanted to wrap that infuriatingly stubborn girl up in soft down blankets and cradle her to his chest in front of the fire while she read one of those books she was so fascinated by aloud to him.

"There's quite the nasty rumor circulating involving you and a new pet," a woman's voice cut through the silence. Rose, one of his oldest and most loyal friends. They had gone through every permutation of a relationship in their time together, they had been friends, enemies, and lovers, but now Rose was the only one in the entire coven with the backbone to call Damon out when he was out of control and the only one foolish enough to intervene in his personal affairs. "A new pet who happens to be the Petrova doppelganger."

"It's not a rumor," Damon mumbled resigned to the berating he was undoubtedly about the get. "It's the truth. I found her and I'm keeping her, it's well within my rights as leader of this coven."

"I figured as much," Rose said with a shrug and a dramatic roll of her green eyes as she poured herself a glass of bourbon from Damon's special reserve decanter. "Damon Salvatore, purveyor of his own destruction."

"That's all I get? An eye roll?" he asked, surprised that he hadn't been thrown against the bookcase yet. The last time he took a pet, Rose disapproved to say the least. She broke both of his arms and three vertebrae before compelling the girl to forget everything about the Manor and releasing her.

"Since when did talking to you ever make a difference?" she asked sarcastically.

"Touché."

"Besides, I think this may be good for you."

"What about your 'purveyor or destruction' theory?"

"Oh I still believe that with all my heart," Rose smiled and took a seat in one of the overstuffed reading chairs. "But then it occurred to me that this girl may be the one to break the spell and—"

"We're done," Damon cut her off abruptly and stood to pace in front of the fireplace, his one and only nervous tell.

"_And_ since time is running thin, I have decided to help you win her heart."

"Win her heart? Are you even listening to yourself Rose?"

"Well Salvatore here are your options: give it a try or be doomed to remain a vampire forever along with all of us. I don't need to remind you that the majority of your house has been lusting for their freedom for quite some time. They won't tolerate your obstinacy much longer. There are already murmurs of mutiny."

"Who would dare to challenge me?" Damon growled, stopping in his tracks. He had established himself as a merciless leader by enforcing a draconian litany of rules with an iron fist. He had never enjoyed the hard-line approach and often wished he could cut loose a little more with his coven, but he couldn't trust the majority of them not to drive a stake through his heart the moment that he let his guard down.

"Who wouldn't? You made a promise to us that you would do everything in your power to break the spell and return our humanity to us. Loyalty only extends as far as honesty, Damon. Stefan, William, and I will be with you straight through to the end, but not everyone has such scruples."

"And I've tried everything!" he groaned, draining the last of his blood before refilling his glass with bourbon.

"Except love," Rose quipped with a pointed look. Damon shook his head stubbornly at the very mention of the word and Rose could see him start to withdraw from the conversation. "That was the witch's spell, only when you love and accept love in return can we have our humanity back. Your _humanity_, Damon. You may have everyone else fooled into thinking that you don't care anymore, but I know better than that. I also know better than to believe that you brought that girl here because you were 'worried about what would happen to her' out there."

"What was I supposed to do, leave her to the inbreed flea-ridden mutts? Why should those mongrels get a prime cut like that before we do?" he smirked crassly, hoping to derail Rose's argument.

"You brought her here because she made you _feel_ something the moment you laid eyes on her."

"What am I supposed to do Rose?" Damon sighed and set his glass on the mantle. "Fucking compel her to fall in love with me?"

"I know you're not this stupid."

"You're out of line, Rose."

"Yes, out of line, challenging your authority, blah blah, I've heard it all before, Damon. So come on," she set her glass down next to his and gestured for him to come closer. "Snap my neck, let's just get this over with so we can get down to the real issue at hand."

Damon just shook his head, unwilling to admit that Rose was (as usual) absolutely right. He turned his back to her and focused again on the flames that licked against the heavy logs in the fireplace.

"What are you so afraid of? That it will actually work?"

"This conversation is over," he growled, digging his fingernails into the flesh of his palm to distract him from the anger that was boiling up within him.

"Bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, I'm calling bullshit on you. You're afraid of what will happen if this girl really does have feelings for you. You're scared of losing yourself in someone else again like you did with Ka—"

"Do _not_ say her name."

"Like you did with _her_."

"And I'm not scared of anything."

"This girl could be different, Damon. She's your last chance to make good on your promise to this coven. Keep that in mind."

"I get it, alright," Damon snapped. "I get it, Rose." He stared at the ornately carved wooden box on his desk. The box that held the fabled Cure which would give him his human life back. The only way to unlock the box was true love or some rot like that, witches and their ridiculous notions of romance. "What could she ever seen in me? I'm a monster. I've made myself into a monster, and I've enjoyed it, Rose. She could never love something like me."

"Perhaps you should let her decide that for herself," Rose suggested, placing a comforting hand on Damon's shoulder before she made her way out of the room. Before opening the door she turned and asked a final question over her shoulder. "Where did you lodge the girl, by the way? I haven't seen any lights in the basement on."

"She's in the Ivory Room," Damon grumbled knowing what Rose would make of his housing choice for Elena.

"Uh huh," Rose smiled. Damon designed the Ivory Room himself shortly after he was turned. He filled it with the most luxurious and beautiful furnishings and outfitted it to a royal standard. He never admitted it to anyone, but Rose knew that he had created the room for his princess, the woman who would fall madly in love with him and break the spell so they could live happily ever after. He had the room dusted daily and the fireplace stocked for fifty years but no one came, so he covered the furniture and closed the door.

Despite his hard exterior and spotty track record in the ethics department, Rose knew that Damon was a hopeless romantic and true love was perhaps the only thing he wanted more than his humanity. The real task would be to chisel off the centuries of heartbreak and betrayal in the next six weeks and show Damon that he is capable of love and worthy of being loved in return. With the whisperings she heard from the lower ranking vampires at the Manor, Damon's life could very well depend on his ability to win Elena's heart.

* * *

**A/N: ** The insciption in Damon's book is "Say hi to Friedrich (Nietzsche) for me." **

**I hope you all liked this chapter, we're getting a little more into Damon's past. If you liked it, hated it, meh'd it, leave a review! I'm kinda hoping there are more readers than reviewers because response has been pretty dismal, let me know if I should keep going. Stay tuned for tomorrow's update... it's gonna be a good one ;)**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	5. Chapter 5: Yellow

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses. **

* * *

Elena groaned as the sunlight streamed through the window and onto her face. Despite a rather frightening (and extremely realistic) dream, Elena was loath to admit that she slept very well in the cushy bed, and never in her life had she had such soft blankets. Her hand groped around on the nightstand, searching for a clock of some kind. The antique timepiece she nearly knocked to the floor told her it was almost five o'clock. She had slept the entire day away when she should have been trying to find a way to escape or call for help!

"Ah perfect, you're awake!" a gorgeous blonde woman chirped as she sauntered into the room. "I thought I was going to have to pour a bucket of water on you or something."

"Yeah, sorry," Elena mumbled as she sat up. "Who are you?" Elena asked, pulling the blankets close to her and sounding much more defensive than she intended. The woman seemed perfectly harmless, but then again so had Damon at first so she couldn't really trust first appearances in this house.

"I'm sorry, how rude of me," the woman smiled warmly and held out her hand. "I'm Alexia, but usually just Lexi. I live here."

"Are you Damon's…" Elena struggled for a title until she saw the large diamond and platinum ring on the blonde's left hand, "wife?"

"Ha! Eww," Lexi grimaced theatrically and shook her head. "Damon's is my brother-in-law and probably the worst acquisition of my life, but take the good with the bad, you know? I'm with his brother, Stefan, who is just… well, just wonderful, you'll meet him and you'll see what I mean. But enough about me, we need to get you ready!"

"Ready for what?" Elena asked cautiously.

"Supper, Damon specifically requested that you join him this evening."

"Ha," Elena scoffed. "You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

"Um… nope, he really did ask," Lexi said, obviously not picking up on Elena's slang.

"I'm not having dinner with that creepy control-freak weirdo," the brunette refused and snuggled back under the covers, pulling a pillow over her head to hide from her situation.

"Oh Elena, that's really not a good idea. I mean, I know he seems a little off, but once you get to know him, he's really not all that bad."

"Get to _know_ him?" Elena shrieked and threw her pillow off. "He's keeping prisoner here, PRI-SON-ER! I'm not going to bother getting to know him because I'm getting out of here as soon as I can. My family probably already called the police and they'll be out looking for me, so Damon and his supper request can go to hell."

"Elena, don't say things like that!" Lexi shushed and scrambled closer to sit on the bed next to the girl. "Damon is a little rough around the edges, we all know that, but deep down he really is a good guy and he can be really sweet. Oh god! Please don't tell him I said that!"

"I'm not going to dinner, Lexi. I'm sorry."

"Elena, please? Just give it a try? A girl's gotta eat," Lexi offered with a sincere smile. She knew that Damon wouldn't be happy if his latest guest skipped out on the elaborate dinner he had planned.

"Fine," Elena sighed, unable to resist Lexi's charm. "But only because I'm starving."

"Yes!" Lexi cheered with a small fist pump and leapt off the bed, heading straight to the wardrobe and rummaging through the designer dresses inside. "Now let's get you dressed."

_HOTB_

"Really, Rose?" Damon asked skeptically, looking at himself in the mirror. "A tie, in my own home?" He yanked the gray silk tie from around his neck and tossed it onto a growing pile of discarded candidates as Rose handed him another color to try on.

"Dress to impress, brother," a well-coiffed young man quipped as he walked into the study and plopped down on one of the reading chairs with a glass of bourbon. He looked at Damon fussing with the lapels of his suit jacket in the mirror and chuckled to himself. "Very _GQ_, I like it."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be, Stefan?" Damon asked with an eyeroll, turning to Rose in a tacit request to tie his new tie.

"And miss the chance to help my big brother get all dolled up for Prom?" Stefan countered, watching the amber liquid in his glass as he swirled it around.

"Why don't you come over here and say that funny guy?" Damon growled, turning back towards the mirror to adjust Rose's expert half Windsor.

"I would, but I think I'd choke on the cloud of cologne following you around. I know she's human but she's still going to smell you from a mile away."

"You fucking—" Damon growled and made a move at his brother.

"Behave, Damon!" Rose admonished as she stepped between the two men. "Stefan, if you can't say anything nice—"

"Don't say anything at all," Stefan finished in a high-pitched British accent. "I'm just here for moral support, Rosie. And to offer my sage advice about the female species to my idiot brother, who obviously has no game left after all these years."

"Hey Stef, why don't you ask Lexi about my skill with the female species. I think she'd agree with me that I have quite a bit of 'game' left," Damon asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

"That was one hundred and twenty years ago, Damon. Unlike you, I am capable of letting the past go."

"I forgot that you are so _evolved_."

"Maybe you could try _evolved_ on for size and get us out of this mess."

"I'm trying! Alright?"

"Well try harder, Damon!" Stefan said, finally getting up from his chair and raising his voice. "Because if you don't we're going to have to pack our bags and get the hell as far from here as we can."

"I swear to god Stef—"

"He's right, Damon," Rose intervened with a pointed look. Damon's jaw hung open, he was shocked to be ganged up since it so rarely ever happened. "He's absolutely right, and you know it. Now grow a pair, pick a bloody tie, and go be the gentleman I know is still buried somewhere deep inside that lothario," she directed, poking him in the chest.

"Fine," Damon said, looking at Rose and Stefan, who were obviously unconvinced and swiped the crimson tie from her hands, slinging it around his neck and grumbling the entire time. "Fine! But I'm doing this for you, so you better be extra fucking nice to me from now on."

_HOTB_

Dinner was awkward and unpleasant, to say the least. Elena sat at the opposite end of the table from Damon, with several feet of polished walnut table between them. The only sounds to be heard were the scraping of Damon's silverware against the fine china plates as he sawed at his roast duck and the occasional clinking of glasses when a servant came to refill his wine. Elena hadn't touched her dinner or her wine and refused to meet Damon's eyes. The longer she sat in silence the more aggravated she became.

"You look lovely tonight," Damon said, breaking the tense silence with an unexpected compliment. Elena looked down at the one-shouldered saffron dress Lexi had chosen for her and smoothed the silk ruffles of the skirt over her knees. She hated to admit it, but the fact that he noticed and appreciated her efforts made her heart skip a beat.

"Thank you," she said softly, blushing in spite of herself.

"But I don't like yellow. It reminds me of jaundice."

"And red reminds me of the chicken pox," Elena shot back, referring to Damon's crimson tie.

"Wouldn't know, never had them," Damon shrugged matter-of-factly. "You should eat."

"Suddenly, I'm not hungry," Elena said and shoved her bowl away with enough gusto to send little waves of soup sloshing over the rim of the bowl. She threw her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair, staring crossly at Damon.

"Eat!" he commanded more forcefully, slamming his cutlery on the table. He didn't truly care if she ate or not, though she looked a little wane for his liking, but he couldn't abide her disobedience.

"I _said_ I'm. Not. Hungry," she countered as she stood from the table and shoved her chair backwards, scraping it loudly along the hardwood floor.

"Sit your ass back down, girl."

"No, and I have a name, man," Elena snapped, tossing her linen serviette onto the table.

"Sit. Down."

"No."

"This is your last chance to do as you're told. I'm losing my temper with you and your pissy attitude."

"I'm going to bed," Elena said resolutely and turned to retreat to her room, the only place she had found a moment of peace since she arrived at the Manor.

"You'll go to bed when I say to go to bed. Sit the fuck down and eat," Damon growled, appearing beside her and shoving her back into her chair. "I can't have you starving to death on me because you want to play the brave little heroine."

"No."

"This is supper, there is no second offering. Now sit down, shut up, and eat."

"No."

"Then you can fucking starve," Damon said coolly leaning on the armrest of the chair and effectively trapping Elena in her seat.

"It's a better option than spending another second with you," she said with her chin set firmly in rebellion and her eyes flickering with anger.

"And to think, I put on my happy face for you tonight."

"Oh, so this is your happy face?"

"You're about to see my unhappy face if you don't eat." Damon knew that Elena as about to break, he could see it in her eyes, in the way her lip trembled ever so slightly, and her breath caught in her throat.

"I want to go home! I want my family!" Elena cried, bolting out of the chair and running towards the door to the hallway. Damon caught her elbow and spun her around towards him. She crashed against his chest and flailed wildly against him to free herself, but to no avail, his grip only tightened on her arm until she was a bruising vise. He closed the tiny space between them, his face only centimeters away from hers.

"You can get that ridiculous notion out of your head right now, Elena. You _are_ home. Get used to it."

"I hate you," she said quietly. A lone tear tracked down her cheek and dropped onto Damon's wrist. He pulled back as though he'd been burned and stared at Elena as she ran from the room in tears. He'd made plenty of women cry in his day and there was no reason that the little wisp of a girl who ruined a perfectly good mirepoix consommé should be arousing the uncomfortable sensation of guilt deep within him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt truly guilty for his actions. He needed a distraction and he needed it _now_.

* * *

**A/N: Eeek! What do you think Damon's distraction will be? Hope you all enjoyed it! Stay tuned :)**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	6. Chapter 6: Crimson

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses.**

* * *

Elena was sprawled out across her silken duvet staring at the fabric of her bed's canopy. She couldn't sleep but she couldn't _not_ sleep. She was exhausted and still sore from her fall, but she couldn't stop thinking about the look on his face when she uttered those three little words: _I hate you_. As much as she wanted to hate him, there was something about him that intrigued her. She was mysterious and dangerous and so unlike anyone she had ever known in her sheltered life in Mystic Falls. She still couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something, the feeling that underneath his cruelty and harshness there was a man who was simply searching for his place in the sun.

Part of her wanted to attempt a jailbreak in the night and be back at home in her own bed by morning after she reported Damon to Sheriff Forbes. However, a smaller, but more vocal, part of her wanted to break down his walls and get to know him on a deeper level. That part of her wanted to be his friend, to become someone he could trust. The very notion of ever having a good relationship with the man who essentially kidnapped her and held her hostage was ridiculous and she found herself wondering what the timeframe for Stockholm syndrome was.

With a frustrated sigh she threw her legs over the side of the bed and slipped onto the carpet. Before she ventured out into the corridor she pulled on the fluffy white robe that was so neatly folded on her en suite bathroom counter.

There were no lights on in the hallway and Elena figured that this was how the house usually looked. A few doors down from her own, a small sliver of flickering yellow light was sneaking out from under the door—a lone sign of life in the dark wing of the house. Elena crept up to the door as quietly as she could and listened against the heavy wood to make sure she wasn't interrupting anything important.

"Damon?" she peeped quietly as she creaked the door open slightly. She saw his tall figure silhouetted against the firelight, and stepped into the room. "I want to apologize about what I said after dinner, I didn't—," her words died on her lips when Damon turned to look over his shoulder at her. Gone was the beautiful face she had known. In its place slipped the mask of a monster. The sapphire blue in his eyes had given way to black and red, and dark veins laced across his cheekbones. Animal-like fangs dropped from his gums and his lips were stained with something thick and crimson.

Elena's eyes fell to the woman in Damon's arms. His hands were still tangled in her long brown hair. Her head lolled limply to the side and the same thick, crimson liquid dripped slowly from a neat little wound on her neck and down her chest. _Blood_.

"Oh my god," she gasped and backed away from the grotesque scene before her, tripping over the fringe of one of the ornate Persian rugs that covered the mansion's floor. She winced when her already-bruised body tumbled to the floor.

"Elena," Damon said softly as he gently laid his meal down on the floor and wiped at his mouth with the sleeve of his black shirt. "Calm down."

"Don't come near me," she cried as she scrambled backwards, willing her legs to find her feet again and run.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Damon said in the same gentle tone, holding his hands up in surrender. He didn't even think about the red streaks that darted across his palms until Elena's frightened eyes grew impossibly wider.

"Stay away from me you monster!"

"Elena, look at me," he whispered and knelt before her, grabbing her elbows with a soft tenderness she didn't expect for him to possess.

"Please don't hurt me, I'll be better. I promise," Elena begged with tears seeping from her wide eyes. She tried to pull her arms out of his grasp, and to her surprise he let her. "I won't talk back anymore, just please don't hurt me."

"I'm not going to, just look at me," Damon repeated calmly and tipped her chin upwards with his fingers. He stared into her eyes as he had done to countless victims over the centuries as his pupils dilated. "You're going to forget what you saw. You are going to forget that I'm a vampire and go back to being angry at me."

"Oh my god," Elena cried and shook her head, "you're a vampire! This can't be happening. Vampires aren't real, this isn't happening. I'm dreaming."

Damon pulled back from her and furrowed his brow. That was the first time that his compulsion ever failed. It was possible that the girl was on vervain, considering her family's history with _his_ kind, but she'd been at the manor for over twenty-four hours now, which was far longer than necessary for the herb to cycle out of her system. She certainly wasn't a vampire herself, so that was out of the question. Perhaps he just didn't try hard enough.

"Go to your bedroom and go to sleep," he tried again, concentrating even harder to compel Elena.

"Please don't hurt me, Damon. I'm sorry that I said I hated you, I didn't mean it," she begged, still unaffected by his compulsion. She reached her shaky hand up to wipe some of the tears from her face. "Just don't hurt me, please. I'll do whatever you say."

"What the fuck?" he roared and grabbed her roughly by the shoulder, hauling her up to her feet and shoving her against the wood paneled wall, making her shriek in pain and knocking the wind out of her. "What are you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" she gasped as she struggled to fill her shocked lungs with her.

"Who sent you, Elena?" he growled and wrapped his hand around her neck. The stickiness of the congealing blood on his palm made her stomach lurch but she fought against him with what little strength she had left. "Did the witch send you to torment me?"

"No, I… I don't know what you're talking about," Elena managed as she began to see little black dots cloud her vision.

"Don't lie to me!" Damon barked in her face and shoved her against the wall again, dashing her head viciously against the wood. "What. Are. You?"

"I don't know what you're talking about?!" she cried, not even trying to hold back her tears. She was afraid for her life, and she felt with every cell in her body that Damon was going to kill her. Her only solid hope was that she lost consciousness before he finished with her and that he didn't take his time. She thought of her parents and her brother and all of her friends from school, wishing that she could have said goodbye and hoping that they would get closure someday.

"Get out of here," he hissed and dropped her to the floor only to drag her to the door by her ponytail. "You are never to come in this room again, am I clear?"

"Damon, please, you're hurting me!" Elena cried, hoping that he had even a little pity left within him somewhere. He let go of her hair and stood menacingly over her.

"You have ten seconds to leave this room, Elena, or I can't promise that I won't hurt you again."

Despite the pain the seeped through her every pore, she hoisted herself off of the floor and her legs moved as fast as they possibly could towards the front door of the mansion. Towards _freedom_.

* * *

**A/N: So, do you think he'll let her get away that easily? R & R, and stay tuned for more very soon :)**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	7. Chapter 7: Savior

**Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Vampire Diaries_****, ****_Beauty and the Beast_****, the characters, or their likenesses.**

* * *

Elena ran blindly into the woods that surrounded the Salvatore estate. The low-hanging branches of the dark trees grabbed at her hair and at her clothes as she ran. The tears on her face seemed to freeze against her skin and she instantly regretted fleeing without grabbing a jacket, since her flannel pajama pants and camisole did little to block the frigid wind.

"Ouf," Elena grunted as she ran into a warm body. She looked up to see a handsome man in his late twenties looking back at her. _What is with this place_? Elena wondered to herself before mumbling a quick apology to the man and scanning the forest behind him for any signs of the lights of Mystic Falls.

"No worries. What are you doing out here all by yourself sweetheart?" the man said, friendly enough but something about him was still unsettling.

"Nothing," Elena breathed harshly. There was something behind the man's green eyes that set off warning lights in her head not to trust him. She suddenly wished she hadn't run from the manor.

"It's not safe to be out here, you never know what's roaming around in the woods here. Come with me, I'll take you back to town," he offered chivalrously.

"Thanks, that's very sweet of you, but I'm quite fine actually," Elena said with an uncomfortable smile and turned to make her way back to the manor, thinking that it was closer than town.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise," the man laughed and held out his hand in a greeting. "I'm Mason, Mayor Lockwood is my uncle. At least let me get you to the Sheriff's station so I know nothing happened to you out here."

"Thanks again, but I know my way back," Elena dismissed again and wrapped her arms around herself to black out as much wind as she could.

"You seem a little cold," the man stated obviously and came even closer to her.

"Back off Lockwood," a familiar voice growled from behind her. She spun around to see Damon approaching with an intimidating set to this shoulders, the veins on his face had disappeared and there wasn't a trace of blood on his lips. She wondered if the sense of relief that washed over her was obvious in her gaze as she met Damon's blue eyes. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on her, she felt safe with the very man she was running from. As soon as he was close enough he shrugged out of his black leather jacket and draped it over Elena's shoulders.

"Do you know how to get back to the manor?" he asked seriously, when she nodded he gave her a small nudge in the right direction.

"Well, well, well, if it Damon Salvatore, big bad vampire. Little late to be out in our parts, don't you think?" the stranger barked.

"Go back to the manor now, Elena," Damon commanded, ignoring the man's taunts.

"Is this your new plaything?" Mason asked as her closed in on them. Damon positioned himself in front of Elena, shielding her from the man's view. "Pretty little one. When you're finished with her send her our way. I'd love to get my _teeth_ into her."

"Watch your mouth you filthy mongrel," Damon spat and shot a fierce glare in Mason's direction.

"From what I hear, things are coming apart at the seams for you these past few months. It looks like the Salvatore name doesn't inspire quite the fear it used to," Mason taunted. "We caught a few of your defectors coming through here last week. What was her name? Anna, maybe? We had fun with her."

"You'd do well to remember your place in the order of things, Lockwood," Damon hissed and Elena could see a fine tracing a blue veins fan out from his eyes.

"Winds of change, Salvatore," Mason laughed cryptically as he disappeared into the darkened trees.

"Why are you still here, Elena?" Damon scolded as he focused his attention back on her. He fussed with the zipper on his jacket and pulled it closed up to her chin to keep her as warm as possible. "Do you have some sort of genetic obedience deficiency or something?"

"Oh my god, Damon," Elena gasped and grabbed his arm, inching impossibly closer to him when she saw a pair of yellow eyes emerge from the fog. And another. And another. Soon they were surrounded by a snarling pack of bristling black wolves. The creature closest to them snapped his gleaming white teeth in Elena's direction, which was enough to coax Damon's full vampire visage into place.

"Run, Elena," Damon commanded, leaving little room in his tone for argument.

"But what about—" she mumbled in shock.

"Elena, go!" he said, raising his voice above the din of the encroaching wolves.

"What about you?!" Elena cried, unwilling to let go of his arm.

"Go!" he said a little more gently as he pulled her hand from his arm. "I'll be right behind you."

His promise was enough to placate Elena and she turned to make for the small opening in the trees that would guide her back to the safety of the manor. Before she could make any distance one of the wolves leapt in her path and lunged for her. She dropped to the ground and threw her arms over her head, hoping for the best. A high-pitched yelp pierced the night and Elena looked up just in time to see Damon pull the creature from the air and toss him effortlessly against the base of a large tree. The wolf struggled out of the snow and limped back into the darkness, leaving its companions to wage their battle without him.

Elena was in shock and all she could do was scramble to the tree where the wolf had met his demise and she sidled as closely to the bark as she could. The scene before her was too much to watch and she covered her eyes with her hands, trying to think of something much happier than the snarls and gnashing of teeth that now surrounded her. As soon as the commotion died down, she realized that the hollow silence that hung in the air was much worse.

Reluctantly she peeled her eyes open. A cry of terror ripped from her throat when she saw the red blotches that soiled the snow throughout the little clearing. A wolf lain motionless in the snow with his neck bent at an unnatural angle but all of the others had evanesced as mysteriously as they appeared.

Elena's eyes fell upon a dark heap of shredded sinew and broken bone and she did little to stem the flow of tears from her eyes. Her captor. Her savior. Without a further thought she crouched down next to Damon and gently cradled his head into her lap, brushing away the few strands of hair that were matted to his forehead by his blood or of one of his enemies, she couldn't know. He wasn't breathing but it occurred to her that she didn't know if vampires needed to breathe or not. She had no real way of knowing if he was dead, or… dead_er_.

She tried to pick him up but his weight was far too much for her to lift, let alone carry back to the manor without help. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him closely crying tears of fear, relief, and sadness into his midnight locks.

Damon stirred slightly and groaned in pain and his bones knit back together under layers of torn muscle and skin. He hated this part, supernatural healing certainly came in handy but the mechanics of it were a bitch.

_Fucking filthy disgusting curs_, he mentally cursed the whole of the werewolf race. He felt something warm encircling him and for a moment he thought that one of them had drug him back to their lair for a few years of torture and pay back; but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a wolf cry, or smell like strawberries and sunshine, for that matter. _Elena_. She had stayed despite his several commands to leave. She stayed despite watching him tear apart those creatures with his bare hands. _She stayed_.

Not only did she stay, but she was crying for him. A part of him wanted to play possum for a little longer since he couldn't recall anything that felt so good as being held in her arms, but he couldn't risk having the wolves show up with reinforcements in tow while he was still vulnerable.

"Elena," he croaked.

"Damon! Thank god, you're alive! I thought they killed you," she wept.

"Elena, there's no time for crying," he instantly regretted his tone when he saw the relief on her face morph back into her mask of stubborn refusal. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, my ankle hurts, but only a little," she muttered.

"I need—" Damon began, and he was about to do something he had never down before in his life. "I need your help to get back to the manor. My bones aren't quite healed yet, but we're too exposed out here."

"Ok," Elena said, nodding and looking around wildly for any signs of the wolves' return. She helped Damon up from the snow and slung one of his arms across her petite shoulders. He hissed in pain and knew he was in for an earful from Rose whenever they made it back.

Damon could feel the fire of the werewolves' venom pulsing through his veins and the pain clouded his vision. He made it to the manor's broad front porch before succumbing to his pain and collapsing. He could faintly hear Elena's voice calling out for help and the warmth of her palms against his face was the last thing he remembered before be slipped into the peace and quiet of unconsciousness.

* * *

**A/N: She stayed with him! Yay :) They still have a long way to go though. Drop me a review if you please and stay tuned for the next chapter...**

**XOXO ~Anna**


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets

"Good lord," Stefan groaned, jumping off of the couch and helping Elena through the door with his brother's body. "What happened?"

"I went to the woods, and there was this weird guy and wolves, and Damon…" Elena paused as though realizing for the first time what Damon had really done for her. "Damon saved me."

"Wolves?" Rose asked as she came up behind Stefan.

"Yeah, or maybe big dogs, I think. I don't really know for sure," Elena said breathlessly and she stretched her weary shoulders back into place.

"Shit, not again," Stefan said and raked a frustrated hand through his hair. "Rose, get Niklaus here immediately. Will, help me get Damon to his room. Lexi, can you take care of Elena?"

"No wait," Elena protested as the blonde woman led her away from the scene unfolding before her. "Is he going to be ok?"

"He'll be fine, please go with Lexi, Elena," Stefan sighed, moved by the concern etched across her face for his brother. "We have a very small window of time here, I'll fill you in as soon as we're finished."

"He's going to be ok, right?" Elena asked again as she and Lexi made their way to the kitchen. Lexi brewed a fresh pot of chamomile tea and slid a lovely antique cup in front of Elena. "I know about you all being vampires, by the way."

Lexi froze and looked at the girl across the table from her. Their secret was carefully guarded, the punishment for divulging it was death, ironically enough, by werewolf venom injection. Lexi felt a shiver of fear run down her spine, wondering which of her friends would soon pay with their lives for their indiscretion.

"It's fine, I mean, it's a little crazy, but it's fine. It means Damon can't die though, right?" Elena pressed, confused as to Lexi's sudden silence.

"A hundred years ago he would have died," Lexi explained. She chuckled when she saw Elena's face go wan at her comment. "Werewolf venom is lethal to vampires."

"But?" Elena cut in.

"But, we have Klaus on our side. He's a hybrid, half vamp, half wolf. His blood is an antidote for werewolf venom."

"Why does he side with you instead of the werewolves?"

"Damon saved his life a long time ago. No one knows the details, but his loyalty runs deep because of it, especially his loyalty to Damon. "

"So he'll be ok?" Elena asked again.

"He'll be fine," Lexi smiled, wondering to herself about how nice it was to have a semi-normal conversation with someone outside the coven. It was liberating, in some way, that Elena knew their secret; even better that she didn't seem keen to divulge it to anyone.

"Wakey, wakey, brother," Stefan sing songed loudly next to Damon's ear as soon as Will pulled the needle from his skin after administering the venom antidote.

"Fucking hell, I will break your head clean off your shoulders if you _ever_ say that again." Damon grumbled, squeezing his temples and squinting his eyes against the lights in his room.

"Good thing we've got Klaus on retainer," Stefan grinned. "I'd hate to think what would happen if his loyalties ended up with his four-legged friends out there."

"How bad was it?" Damon asked looking at the healing wounds on his arms. The last time he got into a tangle with the wolves he only got bit twice, this time he had at least ten bites that he could see, not counting the undoubtedly dozens on his back and shoulders that were throbbing as they knit back together.

"Worse than last time. You're getting slow Old Man, I've never seen you come back that chewed up before. You know they're probably all back in their hovels laughing at you."

"I was a little distracted," Damon growled. He hated giving his little brother the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable. He'd trust Stefan with his very life, but he couldn't trust him with his pride.

"We know," Stefan smiled and motioned with his head to the chaise lounge by the window, more specifically to the little leather jacket-clad brunette curled up and sound asleep on the chaise. "She hasn't left that spot for the past six hours. And funny thing is, I swear I've seen that jacket somewhere… don't you have one _just_ like that?"

"Fuck off Stef and don't look at me like that," Damon snapped.

"Like what?" Stefan asked innocently, looking genuinely offended at Damon's coarse language.

"Like some moony-eyed idiot who has been reading too much chick lit. I loaned her my jacket, big fucking deal, I wasn't offering myself as a chew toy to those flea-bitten curs just so the girl could die of hypothermia."

"Uh huh," the younger Salvatore said patronizingly, patting his brother on the shoulder. "If that helps you sleep at night."

"Don't you have anywhere else to be?"

"Right, I'll leave you to weave your special brand of romantic magic with the lovely lady," Stefan smirked. Damon threw the closest thing he could find at his brother as he slipped out the door and when the antique vase crashed against the closed door Elena stirred from her slumber.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed, jumping up from the chaise with a radiant smile across her face.

"I am," Damon answered with a small smile of his own.

"I'm sorry, it's late. I shouldn't be in here, I know. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I'm sorry," she stuttered and head towards the door.

"Elena," he said in a menacing voice that stopped her right in her tracks. "Come here."

"I'm sorry—"

"Stop apologizing, I'm not mad at you," he said gently as Elena shyly inched towards his bed. "Sit down, please."

"Lexi said that werewolf venom is poisonous to vampires," she said quietly, hoping that he wouldn't get angry at his sister-in-law for filling her in on the details of the situation.

"It's no worse than a bee sting," he shrugged but elaborated upon seeing her incredulous stare. "Ok, maybe a little worse than a bee sting."

"Does it hurt anymore?" she asked, staring at the healing wounds on his arms and shoulders.

"No, it doesn't hurt. Are you ok? You mentioned your ankle hurt, do you need a doctor?"

"I'm fine," Elena said, still staring at the gaping bite wounds on Damon's upper arms. "Shouldn't you clean those or something?"

"They'll heal," Damon shrugged wondering what it must be like to be in Elena's position; like finding out the monsters in the closet were real the whole time. Elena slid off of the bed and towards the en suite bathroom. Damon figured she was feeling ill with all of the information, but she returned shortly with a shallow basin of warm water and a hand towel. She sat back down on the bed and smiled shyly at him before inching closer. With a gentleness that broke Damon's heart she reached out and took his hand in hers, stretching his arm towards her. She wrung the extra water out of the towel and carefully swabbed at his wounds.

He almost stopped her. He almost told her that vampires couldn't get infections and that his wounds would heal in an hour or so, but he couldn't. He wanted to pull away and send her back to her room to think long and hard about what she'd done, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember the last time someone set his skin ablaze with a simple touch and it felt good. Elena's hands were warm and soft on his arms and it was the first time anyone had ever taken care of him. He was so caught up in the whirlwind of sensations that he almost didn't notice the silent tears tracking down Elena's cheeks.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asked, but she just shook her head and continued to dote on him. He took the hand towel from her and set the basin on his nightstand, pulling her attention back to him. "Elena, are you ok?"

Elena nodded at first but shook her head almost immediately and sobbed loudly.

"I just don't know what to think," she cried, overcome with confusion. "How can it all be real? My brother used to tell me scary stories about vampires and werewolves and monsters and now they're true? How can it be?"

"I'll tell you anything you'd like to know, but first you need to rest. You've been through a lot this evening."

"Ok," she nodded and swiped the back of her hand over her cheeks to dry her tears. "I am kind of tired."

"Rose stoked the hearth in your room but there are extra blankets in the wardrobe if you get cold," Damon offered.

"Thank you," Elena said, surprised at Damon's accommodating offer. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Tomorrow," he repeated in a tacit promise. And for the first time in a long time, Damon looked forward to the coming of a new day.

* * *

**A/N: Whoa Damon, your nice is showing (a little)! Always handy to have your own Klaus around whilst living among werewolves :) Stay tuned... **

**XOXO ~Anna**


End file.
